Then I busked mysel' wi' speed, And the neighbors cried "What need?

'Tis a la.s.s in any weed Aye bonny!"

Now my heart, my heart is sair.

What's the good, though I be fair, For thou'lt never see me mair, Man Johnnie!

While the apple-woman sang Mopsa finished her story; and the Queen untied the fastening which held her carpet to the boat, and went floating upon it down the river.

"Good-by," she said, kissing her hand to them. "I must go and prepare for the deputation."

So Jack and Mopsa played about all the morning, sometimes in the boat and sometimes on the sh.o.r.e, while the apple-woman sat on the gra.s.s, with her arms folded, and seemed to be lost in thought. At last she said to Jack, "What was the name of the great bird that carried you two here?"

"I have forgotten," answered Jack. "I've been trying to remember ever since we heard the Queen tell her first story, but I cannot."

"I remember," said Mopsa.

"Tell it then," replied the apple-woman; but Mopsa shook her head.

"I don't want Jack to go," she answered.

"I don't want to go, nor that you should," said Jack.

"But the Queen said, 'there cannot be two queens in one hive,' and that means that you are going to be turned out of this beautiful country."

"The other fairy lands are just as nice," answered Mopsa; "she can only turn me out of this one."

"I never heard of more than one Fairyland," observed Jack.

"It's my opinion," said the apple-woman, "that there are hundreds! And those one-foot-one fairies are such a saucy set, that if I were you I should be very glad to get away from them. You've been here a very little while as yet, and you've no notion what goes on when the leaves begin to drop."

"Tell us," said Jack.

"Well, you must know," answered the apple-woman, "that fairies cannot abide cold weather; so, when the first rime frost comes, they bury themselves."

"Bury themselves?" repeated Jack.

"Yes, I tell you, they bury themselves. You've seen fairy rings, of course, even in your own country; and here the fields are full of them. Well, when it gets cold, a company of fairies forms itself into a circle, and every one digs a little hole. The first that has finished jumps into his hole, and his next neighbor covers him up, and then jumps into his own little hole, and he gets covered up in his turn, till at last there is only one left, and he goes and joins another circle, hoping he shall have better luck than to be last again. I've often asked them why they do that, but no fairy can ever give a reason for anything. They always say that old Mother Fate makes them do it. When they come up again, they are not fairies at all, but the good ones are mushrooms, and the bad ones are toadstools."

"Then you think there are no one-foot-one fairies in the other countries," said Jack.

"Of course not," answered the apple-woman; "all the fairy lands are different. It's only the queens that are alike."

"I wish the fairies would not disappear for hours," said Jack. "They all seem to run off and hide themselves."

"That's their way," answered the apple-woman. "All fairies are part of their time in the shape of human creatures, and the rest of it in the shape of some animal. These can turn themselves, when they please, into Guinea-fowl. In the heat of the day they generally prefer to be in that form, and they sit among the leaves of the trees.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE APPLE WOMAN.

"So she began to sing."--PAGE 156.]

"A great many are now with the Queen, because there is a deputation coming; but if I were to begin to sing, such a flock of Guinea-hens would gather round, that the boughs of the trees would bend with their weight, and they would light on the gra.s.s all about so thickly that not a blade of gra.s.s would be seen as far as the song was heard."

So she began to sing, and the air was darkened by great flocks of these Guinea-fowl. They alighted just as she had said, and kept time with their heads and their feet, nodding like a crowd of mandarins; and yet it was nothing but a stupid old song that you would have thought could have no particular meaning for them.

LIKE A LAVEROCK IN THE LIFT.

I.

It's we two, it's we two, it's we two for aye, All the world and we two, and Heaven be our stay.

Like a laverock in the lift, sing, O bonny bride!

All the world was Adam once, with Eve by his side.

II.

What's the world, my la.s.s, my love!--what can it do?

I am thine, and thou art mine; life is sweet and new.

If the world have missed the mark, let it stand by, For we two have gotten leave, and once more we'll try.

III.

Like a laverock in the lift, sing, O bonny bride!

It's we two, it's we two, happy side by side.

Take a kiss from me thy man; now the song begins: "All is made afresh for us, and the brave heart wins."

IV.

When the darker days come, and no sun will shine, Thou shalt dry my tears, la.s.s, and I'll dry thine.

It's we two, it's we two, while the world's away, Sitting by the golden sheaves on our wedding-day.

CHAPTER XII.

THEY RUN AWAY FROM OLD MOTHER FATE.

A land that living warmth disowns, It meets my wondering ken; A land where all the men are stones, Or all the stones are men.

Before the apple-woman had finished, Jack and Mopsa saw the Queen coming in great state, followed by thousands of the one-foot-one fairies, and leading by a ribbon round its neck a beautiful brown doe.

A great many pretty fawns were walking among the fairies.

"Here's the deputation," said the apple-woman; but as the Guinea-fowl rose like a cloud at the approach of the Queen, and the fairies and fawns pressed forward, there was a good deal of noise and confusion, during which Mopsa stepped up close to Jack, and whispered in his ear, "Remember, Jack, whatever you can do you may do."

Then the brown doe laid down at Mopsa's feet, and the Queen began:--

"Jack and Mopsa, I love you both. I had a message last night from my old mother, and I told you what it was."

"Yes, Queen," said Mopsa, "you did."